Pretty Things
by burnithot
Summary: As she mutters back an equally nervous "yes," she swears that Alo Creevey will never cease to amaze her. This is a one-time thing, Mins. It can't happen again. Getting attached only leads to destruction.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Skins or the title of this story, which was inspired by the song of the same name by Oceanship.

**Author's note:** This is my first attempt ever at writing Skins fanfiction. I hope it isn't too horrible. Please be gentle in your reviews, which I would really like to read and see what you think. Oh, and the present is some time before 6x09, whereas the flashback (the second part) is some time before 6x05.

i.

"_I don't think you know how to love anything."_

Though spoken months ago, his words haunt her every day. They serve as a constant reminder as to how she fucked everything up between the two of them. All because she is a scared little girl that keeps running away from the terrifying truth—that she has fallen for him. (So much for no strings attached.) And when she tries to repair the damage she has caused, she knows that it's too late. He slips through her fingers, just like that.

Maybe he's right. Maybe she isn't built the right way. Maybe she can't love anything, at least not properly. And maybe nothing can love her, at least not properly.

She recalls how Nick had abandoned her. She recalls how she had been too frightened to acknowledge the feelings she had once felt for Franky. She recalls how her father had left her in her time in need. She recalls how she had isolated herself from her mother.

It's all fucked, and she has no idea how she let her life spiral downward into the shithole that it's become.

Her fingers gently trail over the swelled bump of her stomach; she thinks to herself that it's like going up a small hill. She exhales a breathy sigh and tries to reposition herself in an attempt to get more comfortable. (Face it, Mins, nothing is comfortable these days.) At this point, the little baby inside of her is the only thing that keeps her going, the only thing that she is willing to struggle through each day for.

She remembers when she saw the tiny thing on the monitor screen for the first time. Even now, tears swim in her eyes as a warm, tingly emotion seems to expand throughout her, reaching to the very tips of her toes and fingers.

It's an emotion she's experienced once before, and in that moment, she realizes how wrong Alo was.

ii.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

"What the fuck?" she says, annoyed, voice coming out as a growl. She's been lying under her duvet with her eyes squeezed shut, desperate to get some rest. (But then again, how can she—how can anyone—sleep at night when Grace is gone?) There is no denying the soft plinking noise… now where the hell is it coming from? She reluctantly slinks out of bed and wanders over to the window. Pulling the curtain back, a startled yelp escapes her mouth.

She opens the window. "For fuck's sake, Farmboy, it's two in the fucking morning!" she snarls.

Alo grins and says nothing, merely makes a gesture indicating he wants her to come outside.

In response, she flips him off and closes the window with a loud slam. Nonetheless, she finds herself wriggling into a dress and grabbing her denim jacket. "Fucking hell," she mutters, shaking her head, as she creeps down the stairs. "I don't know why you're doing this to yourself, Mins."

She knows she will only break his heart in the end. Nothing is ever simple, after all.

Life is messy and chaotic and ugly and cruel. (He just hasn't seemed to have figured that out yet.)

"Mini!" exclaims Alo happily. A smile lights up his face—it's the kind of smile that reaches his eyes.

When he reaches for her hand, she tugs out of his grip on instinct. He looks like a hurt little puppy dog, though, and she much rather see him smile, so she sighs as if it's some sort of big fuss before hesitantly intertwining their fingers. "Where the fuck are we off to, ginger minge?"

"Fancy a spliff?" is his cheerful answer.

Rolling her eyes, she takes the spliff with her free hand, which he lights for her. "What a gentleman," she drawls as she blows smoke in his face, and once he's taken the joint from her, she sticks her tongue out at him. "You never answered me, wanker. Where the fuck are we going? I don't particularly fancy a shag at two in the morning," she hisses.

A ring of smoke curls out of his mouth. "Perhaps I didn't fetch you for a shag," he replies, voice even.

She shoots him an irritated glare. "We shag, and that's all—or have you forgotten?" she says coldly.

Unfazed, he fires back, "For fuck's sake, Mini, try letting your walls down for once in your fucking life. It's not all about shagging, y'know? We're just two mates sharing a spliff and wandering 'round at two in the morning."

Words fail her in that moment, leaving her unable to chew him out with a sharp-tongued retort. (Okay, fine, maybe it's not entirely involuntary. Maybe she just doesn't have the heart to keep up the mean-girl act.) So, resigned, she allows silence to settle around them. Really, what else is there for her to possibly say?

As they continue walking, she suddenly realizes that she has lost track of time. She glances uneasily around their unfamiliar surroundings. "What the fuck are we doing in the woods, Farmboy?" she demands. She loathes the slight quiver of fear in her voice.

"Trust me, Mins," says Alo, and she's thrown by his calm demeanor.

She does, however, catch the excited gleam in his eye. She sighs and can only wonder what the fuck he has planned.

The sight that lies before her is definitely nowhere near what she had envisioned in her mind, and damnit, she can't help the stinging in her eyes.

A tattered, red-and-white checkered blanket lies in the middle of the open field. There is a large boom box settled in one of the corners, as well as a picnic basket.

"What is this for?" Oh, fuck. Her voice comes out as a pathetic, meager, trembling whisper. She fiercely tells herself to get her emotions in order, but to no avail.

"I thought we could look at the stars together!" he chimes. Alo sounds happy as always, although he doesn't sound particularly proud either. "Oh, and I got my mum to make a couple of sandwiches. It's nothing fancy, really…"

She looks at him hopelessly. The boy is completely clueless as to how special he is. Nobody has ever done such a sweet act all for her, and he doesn't even realize how most boys would never do such a romantic thing for their girlfri—er, shagging mate. "Come here, you stupid fuck," she sighs, locking her arms tightly around his waist.

Alo at first stiffens in surprise, though he is quick to return the embrace. "Do you, uh, want to dance?" he mumbles nervously, his cheeks slightly flushed.

As she mutters back an equally nervous "yes," she swears that Alo Creevey will never cease to amaze her. (This is a one-time thing, Mins. It can't happen again. Getting attached only leads to destruction.)

"_I want to buy you pretty things,_

_Horses and castles and diamond rings,_

_And we'll go dancing in the spring,_

_If you like."_

The tune is soft and slow and solemn, a mirror of their movements. Her arms move up to his neck, and her fingers absentmindedly fiddle with his ginger locks, and her head rests on his shoulder. She feels him carefully place his hands on her hips; she tries and fails to suppress the smile that breaks across her face.

She's grateful he can't see her expression.

"_And we'll be all right,_

_Never have to beg or have to fight._

_For what we know is true,_

_That's what we'll never do,_

_Never, ever."_

Mini holds in a sigh as they dance together. He is humming along to the song, and her smile is turning bittersweet. She hopes against hope that the singer is right—that they'll be all right.

"_And if we breathe for one another, they will never suffocate us._

_And if we stay close to each other, they will never separate us._

_And if we support one another, they will never get beneath us._

_And if we try,_

_And if we try,_

_They will never stop us."_

The song is long over, and yet they're still there, holding each other gently, the way lovers do, and swaying to the melody that only they can hear. Finally, though, he guides her over to the blanket, where she lays down and he pulls her to him.

For once, she doesn't object. Instead, she chooses to nibble at her sandwich and admire the beautiful stars that twinkle above them.

(She is utterly oblivious that Alo is busy admiring her, not them.)

She doesn't think she ever appreciated the stars until tonight. It's the first time she's ever bothered to look at them, really.

Then, for some reason, she hears the song playing once more in her mind. The singer's raw voice sends chills down her spine.

As she snuggles closer to him, she knows that what she's feeling is even rawer. Not that she will ever admit to it. Come morning, she will probably pretend as though this never happened. Although, then again, it's not as if she could ever forget it.

After all, how could she ever forget the night she realizes that she's helplessly in love?

She hears him snoring softly beside her. Running her fingers through his short ginger hair, she muses to herself that perhaps she is wrong.

Perhaps he will be the one to break her heart in the end. (And she is absolutely fucking terrified of that all-too-real possibility.)

iii.

"_I don't think you know how to love anything."_

The first tear, which has been clinging to her eyelash, drops and splatters onto her cheek. "Fucking hell," she whimpers as she swiftly wipes it away.

She fucking hates herself.

She hates herself for being so fucking blind, for taking his affections for granted, for treating him like he was nothing when in reality he has become her everything.

Screaming and sobbing into her pillow, she wishes that she would have just had the strength to say those three words back. (She does know how to love, she really does. She's just a scared little girl, and can't he please just forgive her?) But no, they have always been a lump stuck in her throat.

"I love you," she chokes out. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

She scrambles to the window, throws it open, and lets out a gut-wrenching scream. "I LOVE YOU!"

But it's too late. Alo Creevey isn't standing outside her house anymore. (What more can she expect? He's given her a second chance, a third, a fourth. She has blown it each and every time.)

She is distraught, she is devastated, she is broken. Collapsing onto her bed, she rests her shaky hands once more on top of the swelled bump of her stomach. "At least I'll always have you," she whispers sadly.

Her own little piece of Alo.

She swears to herself that she won't screw it up this time. This will be the one thing in life that she does right.


End file.
